


Mother to Mother

by tealbrigade



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Gen, I made myself cry with this so here you are, Lucy POV, Natasha and Lucy just being moms who care about their kids, Simon didn’t know she was there but you can’t tell me she and Natasha didn’t overlap, The Visiting, The Visiting but from Lucy’s perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 21:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30095328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealbrigade/pseuds/tealbrigade
Summary: The Veil is thin, and Lucy is too late. But she finds some comfort in the other spirit who made it to her son just a bit sooner.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	Mother to Mother

Of all the obstacles I faced trying to get through the veil,  _ Natasha Pitch _ was certainly the last one I expected.

Of course I knew who she was. How could I not? Her portrait was hanging in the great hall along with all of the other headmasters and Mages. She gave a speech every year at the start of term. I even spoke with her once after getting into a bit of trouble with Davy on the Great Lawn.

I did not, however, know she was  _ dead. _

All I wanted was to see  _ him, _ to tell him I never wanted to leave him. Simon, Simon Snow, my rosebud boy. I needed him to know that his mother loved him. That if I could do it all over again, I’d do things differently, so that we could be together. Without Davy. Without the prophecies, without the magic we tried so hard to pour into him.

But it was Natasha Pitch standing in his window, Natasha Pitch imparting a message.  _ Natasha Pitch _ kissing him on the forehead like the mother he never had.

There wasn’t any time. I felt barely here as it was; right now, when the Veil was at its thinnest, this was my best chance. I don’t think...I don’t think I’d get another one. Even if I did, it would be too late.

I want to scream at the injustice of it all. But nothing escapes, and I sigh as the sight of my son fades, leaving the silhouette of Natasha Pitch’s back the only thing in my vision, long black hair shifting on a nonexistent wind.

“My rosebud boy,” I whisper, but he still seems so confused, so lost. I want to be there for him. I want to run my hands through his curls, so like my brother’s, and I want to be his  _ mother. _

Instead, Natasha reaches out a hand to my son as the living realm fades around us, then sighs herself, and turns. She seems surprised to see me, of all people, hovering behind her in the afterlife.

“Lucy?” she says. “Lucy Salisbury?”

I can’t affirm her guess; can’t even nod. My heart is too weighed down with sorrow. My one chance to see him, and I failed. My eyes are locked on where his appearance once lived, a blank space I’ll never get back.

“Why are you…” Natasha goes on, then turns back, where the last vestige of my sweet boy fades away. “No,” she says. “It’s not possible…”

She is close to me, now. “Lucy,” she says, taking my hands in her own. “What did you do?”

“I thought…” I begin to say, but I can’t finish the thought. Her hands are rough, calloused. Fire-worker’s hands, some distant part of me supplies. Yet still more comforting than anything. “I just wanted to see him.”

At those words, her confused and harsh expression softens into something more understanding. “Your son,” she murmurs. “Simon Snow is your son.”

“We thought he’d save the world.” This whisper escapes my lips, and I’m choking back a sob. “Davy thought—I didn’t know—I wish—“

I can’t keep the tears back now. “I never should have listened to him,” I hear myself say. In life, I never could deny Davy anything. I loved him too much. Perhaps it’s only seeing the aftermath that I find the ability to do so. Perhaps it’s the fact that my headmaster stands before me, and I feel compelled to tell the truth now, now at the end of all things, as if I were still a student standing in her office awaiting punishment. “I just wanted...my  _ son—“ _ I choke back a sob.

“Lucy,” she says, and Natash Pitch pulls me close. I can’t help but cry freely now. It’s been so long since I’ve felt real tenderness—yes, there was Davy, but in the end I came second to his delusions of grandeur. “Lucy. He’s strong. He’ll be fine.”

“You can’t know that,” I argue. Where are these words coming from? Where were they in  _ life, _ when they mattered? “Too much. It’s too much pressure. He’s just a boy. Why didn’t we let him just be a boy?...”

Natasha Pitch meets my eyes, and I stare into those familiar silver pools that struck fear into the hearts of so many students and respect in so many others. “What’s done is done,” she says, her grip on my hands tightening. “His fate is not only his own, now.  _ My _ son—“ she begins, and finally her steady voice falters, but still she squeezes my hands. “Their fates are intertwined, now. He’s not alone. He’s not going to be alone any more.”

Natasha Pitch is crying too, and I cling to her, one mother to another. I put my head on her shoulder, and she wraps her arms around my waist, and our tears mingle together.

One day, our sons will find their way out of the mess we left them.

One day, they will find peace and happiness and a life free of pain.

For now, I cling to Natasha Pitch and she clings to me, and we two mothers wait, and watch, and hope the best for our sons.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, thanks for coming to my sad little fic. This is actually the first little idea I had for fanfic in this fandom, but I couldn’t think of a good way to finish it before now. I made myself cry, so if I emotionally compromised you, just know that I hurt myself so you don’t have to.
> 
> I just got to thinking, Simon heard Lucy’s words after Natasha’s visit even though he didn’t perceive any difference between them, but that means Natasha and Lucy probably overlapped in that little space. And I figured, they probably had some common ground, yeah? Mom to mom.
> 
> It’s fine. I’m fine. (I’m not.)


End file.
